


Eulogy for a Farmhouse

by almygdala



Category: Original Work
Genre: 350 words, Flash Fiction, Gothic, House - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Past Character Death, Short Story, Southern Gothic, gentle horror, lake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28840833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almygdala/pseuds/almygdala





	Eulogy for a Farmhouse

Your father’s old farmhouse had sat empty and cold after he was buried, three years ago now. You could never bring yourself to go back after his death; you wanted to be done with it, to pretend as though nothing was left of him, that he was gone for good. But the town notified you of their plans to demolish it, and so you went back to, at least, finally say your goodbyes. The white paint on the outside of the house was flaky even in your youth, and now was almost completely eroded. It leaned on the top of a hill like a pile of dirty bones, crumbling under the sun. The house smelled of moist soil when you entered, though it hadn’t rained in weeks. You remember tracking mud into the kitchen as a child, and your father chasing you around the yard, threatening to throw you in the lake and leave you there. You laughed because you thought it was a joke. You do not laugh now.

The living room looked how you remembered it, although it was now covered in a layer of dust, and the whole room looked grey and dead. It would be gone in a few days. A slow breeze blew in through the broken windows, and you could smell the lake from the house. It was a nostalgic smell, that lake. It smelled like water, yes, but there was something bitter about it, something just beginning to rot. And it was deep; the more the breeze came in, the more it permeated the house and sunk into the walls and floors. You could practically see the lake now; you felt as if you were right at its edge. You felt the humid air, the mud sucked at your feet, and you could hear the voice of your father, telling you to go on in, he was already there. You left without seeing any of the other rooms; you didn’t owe your father anything. The house was empty as it had always been, wasting away on the hill like a beached whale, and leaving it to fester was goodbye enough. 


End file.
